


a vision in the morning

by mageick



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Book 03: Oathbringer, newlyweds being sickeningly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageick/pseuds/mageick
Summary: “You should have thought of that before bedding a Radiant,” Veil answered for her. Adolin threw his head back and laughed and laughed, and Shallan took a memory for later.--Shallan and Adolin share the first of many mornings together.
Relationships: Shallan Davar/Adolin Kholin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	a vision in the morning

Shallan wakes in the warm crook of Adolin’s arm. Daylight breaks through the window, casting lines over their bare skin. It makes for a beautiful contrast, his tan pressed against her fair and freckled. Veil rolls her eyes at the notion and cracks a jab about her artist’s sensibilities that Shallan happily ignores.

Adolin is snoring beside her, sending small puffs of breath across the crown of her head. Her safehand is numb, smushed uncomfortably between his hip and the mattress, and the stretch of her side exposed to air is frigid. But it’s not such a bad position to be in.

She watches his eyelids flutter under the influence of some dream. The mostly golden locks of hair skewed across his pillow, even more helplessly disheveled in sleep, if such a thing were possible. No, she thinks. Not such a bad position to be in at all.

Outside, the sun is high, nearing its peak. She wonders if Adolin is a late riser, or if the wedding festivities had worn him out. She’s looking forward to asking him which it is when he wakes. She’s looking forward to a lifetime of discovering new things about him. But she’s also looking forward to breakfast. Caught up in the merriment of the party, she’d barely had a taste of her own wedding feast. Plenty of wine though.

Carefully, quietly, she slips out from Adolin’s side and shimmies her way off the bed. She steps into her shift, discarded on the floor with her wedding havah and his own fine attire. Someone had the foresight to leave them a folded stack of clothing, but she refrains from dressing for now. She likes that she doesn’t have to, likes being vulnerable with him even if he isn’t conscious to appreciate it.

Her whole body is taut and sore from dancing and, she reddens, from the exertion that came the night before. Gentle at times, awkward at others, and more wonderful than she could have ever imagined. She breathes in Stormlight from a small bowl of spheres by the bed and soothes away any mild aching.

Pattern hasn’t returned from where she’d sent him off to, and that isn’t any specific location, only an insistent request that he be _away_. Really away and not right down the hall. She’d checked twice to make sure while Adolin had grinned at her cheekily from the edge of their bed.

“Is this going to be a problem?” He’d drawled, playing at confidence, but she could hear the earnest catch to his voice. Pattern would have called him on the lie if he were near.

“You should have thought of that before bedding a Radiant.” Veil answered for her. Adolin threw his head back and laughed and laughed, and Shallan took a memory for later.

There’s a rectangular shadow visible beneath the door, and she eagerly pads across cool stones to find breakfast has been delivered to them on a neat tray. Curry - spicy for him, savory for her - bread and a small bowl of jam. Almighty bless Urithiru’s kitchen staff. Almightly bless Navani, who no doubt orchestrated all of this. The food, the room, the soulcast bed adorned with soft blankets and pillows.

Shallan thinks of waking him with a kiss to those quivering eyelids, a rake of her hand through his tousled hair, or maybe the cold press of her feet to his spine. She’ll save those for mornings to come. Today she takes a loaf of bread and holds it tantalizingly under his nose. And maybe she pokes him with it a few times just to insure she doesn’t go ignored.

His breathing stiffens, his eyes crack open, and when he sees her hovering above him, his drowsy features melt into pure elation. Then he looks cross-eyed at the bread in her hand.

“Bread?” He sounds confused, his voice creaking with sleep.

“And jam!” She adds brightly, pushing the tray onto his lap.

It’s not unlike the meals they’d shared in her old quarters, sampling each other’s dishes, stealing kisses in between. In fact, Shallan is surprised by how very little things seem to have changed, barring the fact that he’s naked and she nearly so (but even that feels normal to her now). She’d expected a shift, perhaps, in dynamic, in feeling, maybe even affection. But dear, sweet Adolin is just as dear and sweet as he’d always been, feeding her bites off his spoon and laughing at the faces she pulls at the flavor.

“You snore, by the way. I see it as my duty as your wife to inform you," She says solemnly, spreading jam across a slice of bread that he holds out for her helpfully. She likes speaking it, this truth. She'll never tire of it. Your wife. His wife. Shallan Kholin. 

“Well then it is my duty, as your husband, of course-” 

“Of course." 

They grin at each other, as if in conspiracy. 

“To tell you that halfway through the night you stole all the blankets. And I let you have them being the doting, wonderful husband that I am."

“Well as they say, marriage is about compromise," she says around a mouthful of bread.

When they finish, the tray is pushed aside and he drags over her like a tide. His mouth a bruise at her throat, he slides the palms of his hands beneath her shift and up her sides. She feels silly for having put it on at all. And she doesn’t again, not until the next morning comes. 

A tray is left at their door for lunch and dinner too.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Pattern.


End file.
